State of Affairs
by barefootbean
Summary: The war may have been over, but they were far from finding any closure.


_Written for an awesome person on tumblr. Intended Syrene/Tana, though it could also be read platonically._

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Prolonging time was unfortunately something not within her grasp. She could slow it to moments in her mind, the ones that she never wanted to end, but when she woke, and her mind's eye cleared the fog surrounding her muddled thoughts to a crystal clear dimension not suited for times like these, there was only one universal time that she followed along with the rest of the world, and that was one she unfortunately could not send to a stand still.

The war may have been over, but they were far from finding any closure.

Syrene knew, because she had ran the idea through her head too many times for the sheer possibility of it not to stick with her whenever Tana was out of sight or too close yet not close enough. It wasn't to say they were on even ground anymore like they had been but shouldn't have; she had duties, an obligation to her people as a daughter of the crown to to face the horrors that no one else would, and Syrene—her responsibilities sent her elsewhere—where Tana was _not_. The Frelian borders were not near as quiet and lovely as one would hope. They were dark, the forests shrewd with monsters and the remnants of a diabolical madness that had seen to drive her away from home, and from the one person she worried for the most. Tana didn't like it when she left in the mornings, packing lightly, exhausted from the constant drive that came from riding in a saddle for hours at a time, but Syrene had accepted that she got no say in the matter, that even if she spoke without consent and allowed herself to utter a word about how simply emotionally draining it was to see the same things day after day after day without end—she'd be giving in to the fact that she didn't want this reality, even though there was no alternative but to move along with it.

Prince Innes' orders had been firm, uttered without hesitance, words steadfast and tone clipped as he'd dismissed her that morning and trudged on to another crisis that needed mending, and it was not out of a loyalty then that had ushered her to follow through with his wishes when Tana met her on the way out of the audience room, concern written all over her features, her hands strung together in her typical I-can't-believe-you're-doing-this gesture.

Syrene appeased her with soft reassurances, just like she always did. "Tana, it's alright. It needs to be done."

"But you've been doing this for weeks now–"

"The restoration will take time, but I don't intend to be gone forever. I'll be back. I promise."

Tana gave her a frustrated look, hands outstretched as if to touch her, make sure this was really the truth being uttered—but she recoiled and threw her palms in the air as the guards down the hall took notice, and Syrene offered an arm to walk her down the long corridor instead. Tana took it, albeit with a look akin to when they'd sparred in the arenas for practice, a heartening demeanor of youth and optimism a year ago, and Syrene knew she would be okay if she still had the gall to sass her over such a simple thing as courtesy. "...I'll trust you to keep your word. Please don't make me regret it."

"I would never break a vow so important." Tana's nose crinkled a bit, lips twitched at the sincere formality, but she said nothing, and the walk to the stables for her departure was quiet except for her own mind as it raced for justification.

The sooner she saw to it that her nation was safe, the sooner she could return, and _that_ was something to look forward to.

Tana made her worry more than she cared to admit, but it was in that fear that she pushed herself to accomplish what little she could do, and make her way back home again, and again, and again. Tana would be waiting for her in the stables like she usually did, leaning against the outer eastern wall as she would cross and uncross her arms, stare at the sky with bright eyes searching for her silver lining of a knight, waiting for Syrene to maker her way back to her as she searched the grounds, too—and when hooves would touch down on dry dusty earth at last, Tana would be there in an instant, and suddenly, it was a lot harder to leave the next day for another scouting trip, another hundred miles away from where she really wanted to be, when her heart dropped down to her feet.

Certainly, Tana was no longer as a fragile as she had once been. She had seen to the matter personally on that account, trained her until the princess was firm on her feet, trained her until the pupil taught the teacher—and it was funny to think, that a year from where they had been before the war, they could have been in the arena, sparring and laughing as Tana said something far too uncouth for someone of her stature, using her wooden lance as a prop as she gasped for hair, Syrene covering her mouth and shooing off the few soldiers that lingered to stare with a gauntlet covered arm and-and-and—

—Syrene missed the innocence they both had once shared. Before Tana had been forced to grow up, before she'd spent nights at a time agonizing her sister's death, playing the ways it could happen in her head until dawn far more than necessary.

Better times had always seen for better memories, that much was true, but she had it in her mind that they wound find that happiness again, if not in their people, than in each other, because that was where their paths always crossed. Her departure would soon see to separate them both, and again, when Syrene would glance down at her princess waving her goodbye, there would be a persistent nagging in her mind that Tana could do better than waiting for her—her, who had to leave more times than she cared to admit, her, who was bound to a role of peace keeper, her, who couldn't even protect one person from the horrors the Demon King had wrought and only made it worse in her daily absences.

It was all a lot of grief, but Syrene would rise above it and come out the better person—because that's just who she was.

Because even if they were separated by a war torn continent, there were some things that were not so bent to change. Because when Syrene fought to keep her life and those she cared about safe from harm, fought for her kingdom and all the people that made that kingdom worth it, and succeeded in making that small change—the distance between them was not enough to ever sever that bond completely.

Because she could list the good things that came from it off her fingers, and knowing that Tana would be waiting for her like she always did, meeting her out in the field with a smile as she twined their hands together—and squeezed, hard, chatting and speaking amiably about relations with Rausten and Jehanna and simply being a being of warmth and unceasing optimism—it made it all worth it. Syrene would always regret the war, and the cataclysmic changes that had been forced because of it—but she wouldn't let herself regret this, these moments when nothing mattered but the moment in question and the wondrous young woman she was so lucky to keep—she wouldn't lower herself to bringing insult upon those that mattered when Tana made it worth it.

For now, she would fight to keep her life and those that she cared about safe from harm, and perhaps, under better circumstances, her departures wouldn't be so deafening in future events; it'd be a challenge to remake the world in the colors that they saw it.


End file.
